Out of the Blue: For King and Country?
by HoganTime
Summary: COMPLETE This is the story on how Peter Newkirk came to Stalag 13. First in a series.
1. Gloating Group Captain

This is the first in series on how the Heroes came to Stalag 13. The Germans in this story will be speaking German among each other, I´ll include translations at the end of the chapters, as well as the episodes I used.

I was not sure about the RAF equivalent of a Colonel, but I think it´s a Group Captain. If it´s not, I hope someone wil tell me the right name.

Thanks to everybody for the reviews on my stories so far and have fun reading this one.

* * *

Corporal Peter Newkirk made his way towards his plane. He liked to think of the plane as "his", but actually it wasn´t. He was just the tail gunner, but somehow he felt attracted to the plane. It was almost as if it was a horse, greeting him, whenever he came along. 

Newkirk sighed. He sensed, that this mission would not go as planned. The new Group Captain, who was now in command of this bomber group had seemed quite an idiot during their first encounter and this impression had lasted throughout the past weeks and the briefing yesterday evening.

_And that idiot is going to fly this plane today. He will be holding my life and that of the others in this plane in his very hands._

Never a religious man, he now wished that he had someone to pray to, pray that He would take this absolute moron out of his hair.

Newkirk rolled his eyes as a man, dressed in a RAF officer uniform came walking towards the plane.

_There he is. Let´s see, what he´s got, when he´s up in the air. He sort of gives you the impression, that he would have trouble tying his own shoelaces._

Aloud he said. "Sir?".

The Group Captain smiled a smug smile, before answering.

"Aha, Corporal, Newkirk, was it? Finally released from the solitary?".

Newkirk grumbled.

_He gave me a week in the solitary for "insubordination", just because I questioned the order to plant flowers all over the runway. He said it´d look pretty for the boys that came home._

"Yes, _sir"._

The Group Captain seemed not to notice, or ignore the sneering tone in the Corporals voice.

"Corporal, our orders have been changed, because I have talked the brass out of this stupid night time bombing raid, we were supposed to do tonight. We are leaving in one hour for Germany. We´ll be out in broad daylight, isn´t it exciting? Finally, we will be able to really see the flowers all over the runway, when we come back. I always thought daytime bombing to be the better option. Can you imagine? When we come back, all those flowers will turn their heads towards us, as if they were greeting us.".

He smiled, obviously content with himself.

Newkirks eyes widened in surprise.

"But sir, are you insane! Daylight bombing! You know the RAF tried this before and it was a complete failure. Why!".

The Group Captain waved a warning finger under Newkirks nose.

"Corporal. One more word and I´d have you in the solitary faster than you can say Sir!".

"Here you´ve got your word. It would be a pleasure to not be in that plane when we are going out!".

Newkirks temper was rising, but the Group Captain watched him without a word.

"Corporal, I´ll have you sent to the solitary for a month, after we return. Be here in exactly one hour, or I´ll have you court martialed.".

Newkirk marched away angrily.

_I am not going with him, I am definitely not going out in daylight with this man at the controls of the plane._

A voice echoed through his head. _"I´ll have you court martialed"_

_Who cares? I´d rather be spending the rest of my life rotting away in some kind of prison than to rot away permanently somewhere in Germany._

**

* * *

One hour later**

_I can´t believe I´m really doing this. I can´t believe that I´m really here._

Newkirk stared furiously out of the window. He could feel that they were now driving down the runway, their speed increasing all the time. Then came the point, where the plane should have lifted up, but they continued driving and driving.

Newkirk heard the copilot shout. "Pull up, now!", the man certainly sounded a bit upset.

Finally, he felt the plane lifting up, but almost within a second, the plane bumped down onto the runway again. They bumped three times after this, before the plane finally took of.

_Oh gosh, he can´t even fly.

* * *

_

**Three hours later**

Newkirk could hear Flak beginning to erupt around the plane as they came closer to their target, a munitions factory near Frankfurt. He peered out of the window, but could detect no Messerschmitts.

Suddenly, the plane shook violentely.

_Oh, oh, we´ve been hit._

But before he could start looking around to detect any holes or other damage done to the plane, he heard the Group Captain shout.

"No worries, gentlemen. I´m just a bit nervous, I guess, it makes me feel a bit shaky and when I feel shaky, my hands start to shake.".

Newkirk was close to walking towards the cockpit and slapping the pilot in the face, but he remained where he was, because out of the blue, a Messerschmitt had appeared.

He grabbed the gun and fired. Soon, he saw little flames coming from the enemy plane. A second later, it exploded and fell in hundreds of pieces towards the earth.

The Flak increased. It seemed like the sky was on fire and the clouds a massive mass of flames.

Flak exploded all around them and the next moment, the plane shook and he heard a yell from the cockpit.

"Fire, the plane is on fire! Bail out!".

As in a dream, Newkirk grabbed his parachute and dived for the door. The next moment,the ice cold wind was blowing into his face and he fell and fell. Flak exploded all around him.

_I´m never going to make it._

He heard men shouting, crying out in pain, as the plane, now a massive fireball turned into a death trap for those that had not escaped. He followed the plane with his eyes, as it hurled towards the ground.

_How many of us are trapped in there? I was one of the first, if not the first out. Who else made it?_

As he was floating in the air, the Flak exploding around him, watching the plane with at least two or three men crashing into the woods, he remembered the words the Group Captain had spoken before they left.

_"I will bring you all back safely, or my name is not Rodney Crittendon anymore!"._

And there, in the face of death he burst into laughter, a bitter, hollow laughter that cursed the world and the people living on it.

_I´ll never trust one of those bloody officers again._

_

* * *

Idea from Episode 63- The Crittendon Plan _


	2. Behind Barbed Wire

The Newkirk at the end of this chapter is the Newkirk before he became part of the operation and learned that what individuals do can matter to more people than just yourself. I imagine this was what Newkirk was like before Stalag 13. Of course, you´re free to think otherwise ;-)

Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy reading the rest of Newkirks story. The next stories in the serie will follow.

* * *

A flash of pain and the world went dark. When Newkirk woke up again, he found himself dangling from a tree, still wearing his parachute.

He cursed and rubbed his throbbing forehead, but pulled his hand away as the sharp pain soared through his head. His hand was wet and he wiped it dry with his uniform. Then, seeing the dark red stains, he realised that he was bleeding severely from a wound on his forehead.

_I need to get down this tree and fast!_

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an army knife. The knife clicked open and seconds later, Newkirk fell towards the ground. He could hardly prevent himself from crying out loud as he landed hard on his ankle and felt it twisting beneath his weight.

Breathing hard through his nose, he fought the feeling of nausea and tried to stand up. Slowly, he put his weight onto his injured ankle and exhaled deeply through his nose, as a flash of pain shot up his leg.

_Slowly, Peter, slowly._

Finally he managed to get into an upright position and began to limp slowly towards the nearby trees.

_I have to hide somewhere._

Panting, he lay down behind some bushes, waiting for the pain to move away. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, when footsteps approached him from behind and someone held a gun against his head. As in a dream he obeyed to the whispered order "Hands up", before realizing that the order was spoken in English.

_English, here? In the middle of rotting Germany? Never._

He was startled at the laughter that suddenly rang through his ears. Curiously he turned around and stared right into the laughing face of Crittendon.

"Hahaha, I thought you were a German. What´s your name again Newkrik? No, wait it was...".

"Newkirk, Peter Newkirk, sir.".

Newkirk breathed hard to control his temper. The Group Captain smiled pompously.

"Yes indeed, a very indisciplined fellow you are. A pity that I can´t send you to the solitary right now for what you said before we left. I guess that´ll have to wait before we get back to England. Now, I´ve got a plan.".

Newkirk looked sceptically but waited. Maybe this idiot was of some value. Anyway, nothing could be lost by listening.

"First, we need to find some geraniums, then, we´ll surrender to the Germans and give them the flowers as a bargain to bring us back to England. Isn´t that a great idea.".

"Sir, with all due respect you do not deserve you are an idiot.".

Newkirk watched as the words seeped into the Group Captains mind.

"Th- Th- This is insubordination. Corporal I will not tolerate this!".

A cracking sound and Newkirk brought his finger onto his lips. "Shhhh, Group Captain, quiet, the Germans, I heard a patrol.".

"I do not care about it! You insulted me! You, you-".

He could not finish his sentence as Newkirk knocked him out cold with the butt of his pistol.

He glanced down at the still figure of his commander. "I´m sorry, sir, dearly sorry that I have waited up until now to do this.".

Then, he crouched behind the bushes, trying to hide Crittendon from view as well.

As the patrol passed, Newkirk hoped he could melt away in the darkness, but Crittendon choose this moment to wake up and begin a furious charade against Newkirk.

Within seconds, they were surrounded by the patrol. Crittendon grinned at them and tried in his best German:

"_Hallo, eine sehr schöne Nacht, nicht wahr. Schaut ihr auch so gerne in den Nachthimmel und träumt? Aber nicht nur der Himmel ist schön, der Wald auch, wisst ihr ihr solltet Geranien hier pflanzen für die Moral eurer Männer."_1

The patrol looked stunned at this brutalitiy, but the major, who was in command took action.

"Shut up, _Engländer_, you will learn to pay respect to your enemy and you will learn very soon, what it is to be a prisoner of the Third Reich. _Wache, abführen! 2_"

As they both were handcuffed, Newkirk shot furious glances at Crittendon.

_How can someone be so bold and still have become an officer?_

Crittendon seemed to have seen this look, because he turned towards Newkirk and whispered.

"Don´t worry, Corporal, I´ll have us out in no time, or my name is not Rodney Crittendon any more.".

Newkirk rolled his eyes again and thought of the last occasion on which the Colonel had said this.

_Last time I heard these words I landed in the middle of enemy territory, where am I going to find myself after this time?_

_

* * *

_

**Two hours later**

The drive had seemed endless for Newkirk, who began to feel dizzy. He had searched his pockets frantically to find something to stop the blood from dripping into his eyes from the wound on his forehead, but had not found anything besides an already used handkerchief.

Guessing, that this dirty rag would only higher the chance of infection he resigned and left the blood where it was. Now and then, he wiped it off with his hand, to prevent it from dripping into his eyes.

Finally, the truck stopped and the two of them were roughly told to get off the truck. Moments later, they found themselves in the Kommandant´s office.

Newkirk studied the man before him carefully. He was nearly bald, tall, thin and wearing a monocle in his left eye. A riding crop was tucked under his right arm as he strode around the office, circling the new prisoners.

"I am Colonel Wilhelm Klink, Kommandant of Stalag 13, the toughest POW camp in Germany. There has never before been an escape from Stalag 13 and I´ll see to it that this record remains unbroken.".

He then turned his attention towards Crittendon.

"Colonel, you are from now on the senior POW in this camp. This includes that you will receive all the privileges according to your rank and you will forward the requests of the enlisted men to me.".

Crittendon frowned at being adressed as "Colonel", but then decided that obviously this German had never before captured a RAF officer and therefore could not know about the difference between a Colonel and a Group Captain. He then returned a crisp salute and said:

"Yes, sir.".

Newkirk rolled his eyes once more.

_He is the enemy, bloody hell, he is German! We ought to fight him instead of promising to cooperate with him._

Klink nodded, satisfied.

"Very well, Schultz, my Sergeant of guard will escort you to your Barracks. You are in Barracks Two. Schultz, _bring sie zu ihrer Baracke.3_".

"Jawohl Herr Kommandant.".

* * *

**In Barracks Two**

Newkirk looked along the line of men, who were standing in the middle of the room to greet the newcomers. Schultz, walked past them and addressed the men.

"Boys, these are Colonel Crittendon and Corporal Newkirk. Colonel Crittendon will be your new senior POW. On order of the Kommandant, you are to tell them about the rules of this camp and show them around.".

Newkirk did not listen to the rest of the speech, his eyes wandered around the Barracks, from the wooden bunks along the wooden walls, towards the holes in the ceiling. Then he looked over the faces. Everybody looked weary, hopeless and helpless.

_So this is what POWs are supposed to look like. People, grounded for the rest of the war in the hands of the enemy. Having to sit back, while others are fighting, dying and new prisoners delivered now and then, as a message to their hopelessness. Sometimes a letter from their families to tell what havoc the war has been wreaking on everything that is dear to them. _

_And the worst of all, I´m going to be one of them. I should not be here, I should be in a pub in London, drinking a beer with my mates, picking someone´s pocket, performing magic tricks, not rotting away in some prison camp._

_And for what good is this? For my King? For my country? Only for the greed of some people. For the want of power, no, whatever I put my life on the line for. It´s not the noble things they told us in training. _

_No, definitely not for King and country or for the sake of others._

_

* * *

_

**Translations**

1 "_Hello, a beautiful night, isn´t it? Do you like watching the night sky and dreaming as well? I must say, not only the sky is beautiful, the woods are as well. You know, you should plant some geraniums, it would increase the moral of your patrols._"

2 "_Guard, take them away_"

3 "_Bring them to their Barracks_"


End file.
